


the worst days of war

by Bekka911



Series: purple syrup and stars that shine [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Keith gives good hugs, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance is sad, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sad Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, but our boy is traumatised, keith is good at feelings, look - Freeform, probably, the war is over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekka911/pseuds/Bekka911
Summary: the worst days of war aren’t always when you’re fighting. sometimes, when the world slips from beneath your feet and the wind turns to screaming in your ears and your heart thunders to the drums of war, the fighting is already over.sometimes the worst days are when you realised you’ve won.ORLance struggles to reconnect what was to what is. Especially Shiro. Because who Shiroisisn’t who Shirowas, and Lance can’t help but flinch whenever Shiro’s eyes land on him.
Relationships: Keith & Lance & Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Lance & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: purple syrup and stars that shine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573699
Comments: 17
Kudos: 291
Collections: Voltron Stars🌌





	the worst days of war

**Author's Note:**

> first Voltron fanfic :)  
> the timeline makes NO sense compared to the canon timeline, but we're gonna roll with it anyway  
> leave your thoughts in the comments!

Everything is fine. The war is over.

Lance wakes up with fire in his veins and ash on his tongue.

The roof above him glows an eerie, mechanical aqua colour - looking at it makes him feel heavy and sick and disjointed so he rolls over and swallows back the tangled sound of unhappiness. His entire body aches. He can’t feel his fingers properly. His eyes are dry and stinging.

He can’t quite remember what he dreamed about. He thinks it was something to do with dying, and someone screaming and Keith’s eyes and Pidge’s laugh and Hunk’s warmth and Shiro-

No. Not Shiro. It _wasn’t Shiro, Lance, you have to remember it wasn’t him it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t-_

Whatever. Lance doesn’t remember the dream properly anyway.

(He’d been the one screaming, because electricity was scorching him from the inside out and he’d been _burning and dying and Allura-_ )

He sits up, pressing his numb fingers against his closed eyes in an attempt to dull the fierce headache that hounds relentlessly at his temples. It’s been stalking him for days. He hasn’t told Coran. He hasn’t told anyone. It’s fine - _he’s_ fine. It’s just a headache. Everything is fine. The war is over. 

He drops his hands back down to his lap, sighing tiredly. His chest is tight with a knot of unidentifiable emotions, and he leaves it alone because he isn’t in the mood to untangle a thousand different threads right now.

(Secretly, he’s scared that untangling that knot will unravel him completely, and then he’ll be nothing but space dust and wasted potential.)

(Everything is fine. The war is over. )

“Get up,” he says to himself, because that’s what he used to say in the midst of battle when he couldn’t feel his legs and blood was splattered on his face. That’s what Keith used to say when all of them were beaten down again and again, but they just needed to get back up _one more time._

Lance says it to himself now, because the war is over but he’s still fighting. They won, but they’re still losing. _Lance_ is still losing. He’s losing to himself, and his own stupid fears. 

“Get up,” he says again, and the knot in his chest starts to burns and his throat gets tight and his eyes start to itch. “ _Get up_.”

Slowly, he gathers his legs underneath him and stands up. He isn’t shaky and his balance is perfect, and somehow that’s the worst part of this moment. Lance has been through too much, and his mind is bending under the weight, but his body stands tall and strong and of course, that means that he’s _fine_. People only see what you show them, and no matter how much Lance wants to rip out his thoughts and his brain and hold them above his head and shout _‘why am I still fighting?’_ , he only smiles and stands steady and goes on.

Lance shakes his head and grabs at his jacket, sliding it on over his clothes. He toes on his shoes. Without a backwards glance, he steps out of his bedroom and starts to wander the hallways, head bowed and eyes closed. 

(He’s taken to sleeping in his clothes for this exact reason. Because the war is over, but Lance is still a soldier and he can’t languish in peaceful sleep anymore. Sometimes he just has to _move_.)

His feet take him wherever they want, his body on autopilot, and that lets him check out for a long while. He keeps his chin pressed to his chest, because it means he can align his breathing with his heart beat. Slowly, he morphs into a symphony of battle cries and echoes and ghostly reminders of grisly days. 

There’s a brush against his thoughts, distinctly familiar, and Lance wants nothing more than to let the presence in - it’s warm and loving and vast, and he wants. He almost does, just because he’s felt so cold and lonely these past few days and he doesn’t know why, but then he pulls back.

Because Blue had shut him out.

And now she wants him to let her in.

And Lance just... _can’t_.

Because he knows that he’ll get addicted to it, the easy relationship they had before. He’ll get addicted to the feeling of someone caring, and that soulful bond that connects a Lion and it’s Paladin. Lance wants it back, wants _Blue_ back, but something prevents him from just reaching out. He can taste the sour tang of betrayal on the tip of his tongue.

Regardless of his mental struggle, his feet take him to the hanger, where the five Lions sit regally. Red reacts immediately to his presence, but Lance just stands and stares at the beast. So quick, so sly, so protective, so eager to throw herself into situations because she works on instincts alone. Keith had been a good fit for her, he decides. _And yet I am not._

‘ _You are mine_ ,’ that heart-breakingly familiar presence hums in his head. Lance tugs lightly on the faint bond between them, because he knows that it should be brittle and easily breakable. That’s what heartbreak and betrayal does to a person. It makes them brittle.

Instead, the bond glows under his touch. It strengthens and warps and burns brighter and colder, until Lance has no choice but to accept it because that’s the only way he can contain such a vast sense of _love_ and _deep_ and _protect_ and _sorry_.

Red does not put her own barrier back up in his presence. Lance has just become a Paladin of two Lions. He doesn’t know how to react to that.

‘ _Come_ ’, Blue urges gently, dropping her head to the ground and opening her mouth. ‘ _I am ready to listen_ ’. 

Lance doesn’t really have a choice anymore, does he? This is _his_ Lion, and he is _her_ Paladin, and still Red’s bond with him burns hot under his skin. They have both accepted him, and Lance doesn’t know why they would bother. The only thing he can do is give himself over to them, because he’s tired and he feels disconnected from everything and he needs someone.

(He misses her.)

He gets in Blue, settles into the pilot seat, and lets her in.

.

Sometimes Lance forgets how vast and endless and empty space is. Even from the castle-ship, it’s hard to comprehend how much of _nothing_ there is. There aren’t even ‘stars’ as such, not like Lance had used to believe. Instead, there’s just swirls of colours and glittering chunks of something magical and silence and _nothing_.

He sits in Blue’s cockpit while they float through the empty, wearing only his casual clothes, and he longs to be part of it. 

‘ _This is what you were fighting for_ ,’ Blue murmurs in his head. Lance keep his eyes fixed on the eternity of nothing in front of him. ‘ _There has not been peace here for too long. You have mended the tears of war on this place, Paladin. You have won. The war is over_.’

“Oh Blue,” Lance sighs tiredly. “The war will never be over.” 

His Lion shifts inside his head, and Lance pulls his knees up to his chest and drops his chin down to rest on them. He’s tired, and Blue is comforting, and space is quiet. Space makes _Lance_ quiet. He stares out at the spanse of glimmering specs of possibility, and his bones stop fracturing.

“When I was little,” Lance begins absentmindedly, tracing an idle finger over Blue’s controls. “I was only about eight, I think. We were at the beach, me and my Mum and Veronica. The others were busy with something, I don’t remember what. But it was just us three. And it wasn’t a good day for me. I just wanted to stay in bed and do nothing all day, but they made me come with them to the beach.”

Lance pauses, smiling fondly at the memory. It had been a good day. He misses them. He swallows and continues the story. “Veronica threw me in the water. And for a moment, I was just...weightless and free. By the time I surfaced, I’d stopped being so upset. Veronica apologised, but I just pulled her into the water and splashed her.”

(He doesn’t say that he wants to vault himself out into space here and now, just to feel weightless again. He thinks Blue knows what he’s thinking anyway.)

Blue rumbles quietly. ‘ _You are in pain_.’

“Yeah gorgeous. I’m hurting a little.”

‘ _You’re hurting more than a little, my cub_.’ Blue sets the bond alight with a distressed kind of love, and Lance’s chest gets tight. He wants Blue back as his Lion. He wants her back, in every way he lost her, because he’s had enough of people leaving him and turning on him and being angry at him.

Shiro-

Not Shiro, not Shiro, not Shiro not Shiro not not not him wasn’t him wasn’t-

And then Lance is crying. Blue lets him be about it, because her Paladin had ended the war, but he’s still fighting and she wants him to _stop_. 

.

Keith is waiting for him back in the hanger. Lance sees him as Blue sets down gently. It makes him hesitate before getting out, because he knows that Keith is worried about him and that Red has probably told her real Paladin about Lance’s complete and utter failure to be strong.

‘ _Easy now cub_ ,’ Red says to him, her presence loud and demanding. Maybe he does fit her. Sort of. ‘ _Little Red is my Paladin, yes, but you are also mine, just as you are Blue’s. I will not give you up lightly_.’

Aw, Lance thinks, Red calls Keith ‘Little Red’. That’s adorable. 

Both bonds vibrate with amusement at that. It chases away the disjointed heaviness in Lance’s veins. He takes a deep breath, flexes his fingers, tries to relax slightly. He has a part to play now, because Keith is out there and he’s worried and Lance need to be the mindless goofball for them or something will splinter. 

“Hey Mullet Man,” he says loudly, jamming his hands into his pockets and strolling down the ramp. Blue gives a little rumble. Lance doesn’t pay much attention to it. He’s slipped into character now. He can’t give Blue the same sort of open honesty he could when they were out _there_. “You know, every time I see that haircut, it looks worse than before. Are you using magic?”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. Lance isn’t blind to the lingering worry behind the expression. Perhaps Keith is playing a part too. “Yes,” Keith says drily. “I’m using magic to keep my hair a certain way just to spite you.”

Lance snaps his fingers. “I knew it!”

“Nobody will believe you.”

Something in Lance immediately shuts down. Because Shiro - _not Shiro, it wasn’t Shiro, but you thought it was, and you should’ve known, and nobody believed you when you suspected, nobody believed you it wasn’t Shiro it wasn’t him not Shiro-_

He knows that Keith had said it in a joking way, but Lance has been called stupid too many times, has felt insecure and worthless for too long, has had to bite his tongue too many times because nobody would _listen_. He knows Keith is joking, but Lance shuts off anyway, because that’s what you do when you’re brittle. 

Lance starts walking, trying to hold his breath because his breathing is getting too shallow and too quick, and he’s breathing the same way he breathes when they’re fighting and nearly dying. He knows Keith is following quietly, and he damns his friend because Keith is good at knowing what people are thinking and Keith is good at figuring out what people _need_ , and right now Lance needs a lot of things.

So Keith grabs his arm and swings him around into a tight hug. 

Lance doesn’t hesitate to hug back, because Keith is warm and Lance is cold. They grip onto each other tightly, and Lance is shaking - not because he’s crying but because he’s tired and upset and there’s relief there somewhere too, and Keith gives _really good_ hugs. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance says miserably, and he’s still not crying but he’s drowning anyway. Keith holds him a little tighter. “I’m sorry. _Lo siento_. Keith, I-” He chokes off, and his shaking grows into small shudders. “ _Lo siento_.”

“What are you sorry for, Lance?” Keith murmurs, like he knows something that Lance doesn’t. 

_I’m sorry for being a wreck. I’m sorry for existing. I’m sorry that I can’t move past the fighting. I’m sorry that I’m not okay. I’m sorry that you have to worry about me._

But instead of saying those horrible, selfish things, Lance just takes a deep breath and starts to pull away from the hug. Keith doesn’t fight him, but there’s a reluctance in his touch as he lets Lance go. “The war is over,” Lance says, wiping his face and clearing his throat.

Keith’s eyes soften even more, and he grabs on to Lance’s hand. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Lance, the war is over.”

Lance looks at his friend, and wonders at how he’s matured so much. The Keith who’d started this journey with them wouldn’t have been this gentle. The Keith who’d started with them had been hurting just as much, and had lashed out because of it 

_This_ Keith is open and warm and he cares. Lance has the memories and mental scars to prove that Keith still lashes out sometimes, and people get hurt, but Keith also can mend and soothe. Lance might be a little bit in love with this Keith. 

Just a little bit.

“Come on,” Lance says, his voice wobbly but a little bit brighter. He starts walking, pulling on Keith’s hand to get the other Paladin to follow him. “I’m starving. What do you say we hassle Hunk into making us some food.”

Keith grins. “You realise it’s stupid-o’clock in the morning, right? I’m pretty sure we’re the only two awake.”

Lance doesn’t let it phase him. “Okay, one: I can cook us something. Two: Why are you awake? And three: space doesn’t really have ‘mornings’ so we’re just working on internal clocks and this trust that the time we’re keeping aligns with Earth time. So on Earth it could be early in the morning, but on another planet it might be mid-afternoon. You can’t trust these things Keith.”

Keith knows that Lance isn’t okay, but the war is over. They can figure the rest out later.

.

Shiro is sitting at the table, reading something on a small tablet. Lance tries not to react too visibly to his presence, but he knows Keith knows something is wrong when Lance disentangles their hands and jams his own trembling fingers in his jacket pockets.

“Hey Shiro,” he says, and Shiro looks up. Lance tries not to compare him to Not-Shiro, but it’s hard because there’s little difference between the two. The only thing that Lance can find is the eyes, because Not-Shiro had always looked disheartened whenever he’s looked at Lance. This Shiro looks at Lance with fondness. It rubs him the wrong way.

Shiro smiles, and it’s so similar that Lance actually _shivers_. Not-Shiro had smiled like that too. “Hey Lance, Keith.” Shiro waves the tablet in the air. “Just catching up on some reading. Pidge managed to download some of the Earth classics I missed while I was gone.”

Gone. Not taken, or tortured, or missing. Gone. Lance wonders if Shiro is struggling to recover as well. The thought spurs him to ask, “You hungry?” Shiro gives him a surprised look, and Lance struggles to backtrack a little. “I’m gonna cook me and Keith up a little something, and I was just wondering if you wanted anything while I was in the kitchen.”

Shiro’s surprise melts into a warm appreciation. Lance’s skin prickles. “I’m not hungry, but thank you Lance.” Shiro must notice that Lance is nervous because he says, “However, a warm drink of some kind would be greatly appreciated.”

Lance nods, a little jerkily, and marches past into the kitchen. Keith follows him quietly. Lance almost hates that Keith is so good at knowing what Lance needs. Because Lance _does_ need the silence, Lance needs to be treated like everything is fine, Lance needs someone who doesn’t treat him like glass. But at the same time, Lance feels like he’s one breath away from crumbling and he almost craves the self-destruction.

(Lance is so very tired, and his bones don’t fit right under his skin. This is one of the worst days of war, because everything is fine and the war is over.)

“I’m in the mood for something savoury,” he says to himself, hoping to draw Keith into a conversation so he can forget about the fact that Shiro is sitting just beyond the wall. “Maybe some kind of crackers and dip? Hm, maybe something cheesy.”

Keith makes a small noise from behind him, and Lance braces himself for the worst. Instead, Keith just says, “I’m lactose intolerant.”

Oh right, of course. Lance waves a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to poison you. Hunk found this berry that tastes like cheese? He’s used it for a few different things you’ve eaten and you haven’t reacted badly to it, so I guess that’s fine to use. It just means I won’t use Kaltenecker’s milk.”

It doesn’t take long for Lance to whip up some kind of dip. He instructs Keith to grab some of Hunk’s homemade crackers while he digs around for some of the essence flavourings Hunk had picked up out of curiosity. Lance knows that they make good tea, so he starts heating water while he chooses which flavours for Shiro.

He ends up settling on vanilla-cinnamon with a hint of lavender. It’s the tea that Lance makes whenever the screaming in his head gets too loud and he wants to scream back. It’s the type of tea that sinks into his veins and soothes the wriggling fire that makes Lance think sometimes that they haven’t made it out and he’s dying again.

He makes the tea on autopilot, and he chokes on the taste of fear. The headache is picking up, and it’s getting harder to think, and Lance really just wants to go to bed and wake up three years ago when everything was okay.

“Lance,” Keith says quietly. A hand gently covers Lance’s. Lance hadn’t even realised he’s shaking again. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Lance musters a smile. “Nothing,” he says, and tries to make it believable. “C’mon, we’re not getting any less hungry.”

Keith gives him a searching look, but lets him go and dutifully carries the crackers and bowl of dip out after Lance. 

Shiro looks up with a smile when Lance sets the cup down in front of him. “Thanks Lance,” Shiro says, and Lance winces slightly. Not-Shiro had said that-

Stop-

_It wasn’t Shiro stop it-_

“It’s no problem,” he says easily, sitting down. Keith dutifully sits beside him. Lance reaches for a cracker and curses silently when he notices that he’s _still_ shaking. _How pathetic._

Shiro takes a drink of the tea, and his face lights up. Lance tries to focus on the feeling of pride that uncurling in his chest. “This is amazing, Lance!” Shiro sounds sincere, and Lance desperately tries to hold on to the moment. Never mind that Not-Shiro had always praised everyone except Lance, never mind that Not-Shiro had always just pushed Lance to be _more_.

Never mind that Not-Shiro had always wanted Lance to be like _Keith_.

(This isn’t _him_ , Lance, you have to remember that.)

“I make tea when I can’t sleep,” Lance admits, staring straight at the table so he doesn’t have to see Shiro’s face. “It helps with the headaches too. Hunk managed to find some Earth flavours in essence flavouring stuff. It tastes a little like home.”

For a moment, nobody says anything. Lance reaches for another cracker. Shiro takes another drink of tea. Lance waits for something, _anything_ , but Shiro takes a deep breath and then another, and Keith sits there, and Lance feels cold all the way down to his feet. 

Finally, Shiro says something. “Oh _Lance_.”

Just that. Just his name, said in a sigh that sends Lance’s thoughts spiralling back to a time where Shiro had said the same thing because Lance hadn’t been quick enough in training, hadn’t been paying enough attention to a lecture, hadn't been enough like _Keith_. And here Lance is again, not being enough. 

He laughs - the sound is wild and panicked and _wrong_. Keith flinches from beside him. Shiro just watches him implode. “I’m kidding,” Lance says, still trying to laugh. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

The war is over.

Lance still hasn’t stopped fighting.

Shiro sets his cup down on the table and reaches for Lance with his normal flesh-and-human hand. Lance can’t help the flinch, even as he lets Shiro touch him. This is it. This is where Shiro gives up on him, where Keith finds out how useless Lance had been during his absence. This is where Lance’s deepest fears come true. 

Shiro’s voice is sad and tired when he says, “We failed you, Lance, and that’s not okay.”

 _Protect_. Lance’s instincts flare, and he scrambles to fix what he broke. He grips onto Shiro’s hand without thinking, too desperate to soothe to register what he’s done. Shiro looks sadder. Lance says, “You didn’t fail me, not at all! _I_ failed _you_. You tried to reach out to me in the Astral Plane, and I didn’t help. That’s on me.” 

Shiro squeezes a little. Lance’s breathing picks up slightly. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” And Lance is horrified to see that Shiro looks _genuinely_ distressed. Shiro takes a breath, as if he’s steadying himself. “Lance, you didn’t ask for this war. You didn’t ask to be a Paladin, and you never believed you were worthy. And when I-the clone of me was here, things were said that shouldn’t have been said.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith’s voice is sharp. That’s right, he’d left before things had gone really bad. He’d left before Lance _died_. 

He’d _left_.

Lance manages a watery smile, but it doesn’t go very far to ease Keith’s building anger. “It’s nothing Keith. It was a stressful time for everyone, and I was feeling the affects of being on my own.”

Shiro says, “It doesn’t excuse it. You needed support and I didn’t give it to you. I failed as a team leader. And then you got hurt to protect Allura-”

Lance can’t help it. He breaks out into hysterical laughter.

Immediately, Shiro’s hand is letting go and Keith is calling his name, concerned, but Lance can’t stop laughing because he’d dreamed of that cold isolation so many times he forgot that he hadn’t told anybody he’d died. He can still remember his muscles seizing, and the screaming, and the _pain_. But Allura had healed him, and they’d had a bonding moment where she’d cradled him in her arms, and then they’d never spoken of it again.

His laughter hitches. Tears roll, unbidden, down his cheeks. A hand gently touches his face. Lance just keeps crying. 

It feels like he’s splitting apart. The knot inside him is easing, but it’s untangling him along the way and he’s losing himself to the emptiness that he’s been fighting ever since he found Blue. The tears wash him clean of the festering wound of fear and isolation, but it picks at the wounds of loneliness and abandonment and insecurity, and Lance lets Keith draw him closer.

Keith is talking, Lance can feel the vibrations against his face, but he can’t make out the words. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know what Keith is saying about him. 

“ _Lo siento_ ,” he whispers through the tears, because he doesn’t want them to think that he’s doing this to make them feel back. “ _Estoy bien. Lo siento. Por favor, estoy bien. No es tu culpa._ ”

“Lance,” Keith says, and runs a hand down Lance’s back. “Lance, of course it’s our fault. We didn’t know, and then we just left you alone to deal with it on your own.”

(Lance hadn't known that Keith could speak Spanish. There are a lot of things he doesn't know about Keith.)

Lance blinks open his eyes, because he needs to make them understand that it’s not their fault he’s too unstable to deal with his own problems. But Keith’s eyes are misty too, and when Lance looks over at Shiro, the other man looks _horrified_.

“Shiro…” Lance says, because despite all that Not-Shiro did, _this_ Shiro is his _friend_.

Shiro says, “I was there. I heard you scream. You _died_? I let it happen, oh God.”

Lance wriggles and Keith lets him go and Lance, for maybe the second time since the clone, willingly engages in physical contact with Shiro. He crushes him in a tight hug, because they’re both shaking and they both need it. “Hey, no,” he murmurs. “Allura and I didn’t tell anyone. You weren’t to know what happened.”

“Besides,” Keith speaks up. “It was the clone, not you.”

“But the clone _was_ me.”

Lance tenses up, because when Shiro says things like that, it makes him wonder if maybe _this_ Shiro agrees with the things that Not-Shiro said. The thought makes him hurt all over, and he sags slightly. 

Because he’s spent so long trying to separate the two, and now Shiro is saying there isn’t really a difference?

Lance wants to go bed.

“Oh Lance.” Shiro must have realised what he said. He returns Lance’s hug fiercely. “No, that’s not what I meant. I never would have said those things to you. I’m sorry for what the clone put you through.”

Lance doesn’t vocally respond, but he reaches one hand out for Keith because Keith is hurting a little bit too and Lance doesn’t want him feeling like he’s apart from them. Keith gladly accepts Lance’s invitation into the hug, and Shiro gladly adapts positions so that all three of them are comfortable.

Everything is fine.

The war is over.


End file.
